Following the Stars
by flight of the mockinjay
Summary: "You will be fine, my dear. I know you will do well, so long as you remember to follow your heart… and the stars." In an AU, Narcissa and Lily had been best friends at Hogwarts. After her death, Narcissa volunteers to raise her best friend's son in the muggle world, so he doesn't have to live with the burden of being the 'wizarding saviour'. Eventual HP/DM
1. Chapter 1 - The Fall of a Lord

Chapter One: The Fall of a Lord

No number of words could describe the surprise Narcissa Malfoy felt when the solemn head of the one and only Albus Dumbledore popped up in her fireplace on the night of Halloween, 1981. One moment, she had been sitting on the luscious maroon love seat in the manor's living room, legs curled elegantly beneath her body and the quaint muggle novel _'Jane Eyre'_ (which Lucius, for _obvious_ reasons did not know she possessed and would abhor to discover in their pureblood mansion) positioned in her delicate hands, and then the next Albus was grimly informing her that three people were dead and was requesting her assistance at Godric's Hollow. Despite feeling a deep pang of concern, particularly once she heard where Albus was, and an even deeper one of surprise that it was she, out of all people, Albus had contacted first, Narcissa assured the older man that she would be there as soon as she had found a baby sitter for Draco. With nothing more than her word, the head of Albus Dumbledore disappeared into the fire without a trace. Had Narcissa not seen him with her own eyes and spoken to him with her own voice, she would have never known he was there at all. A small part of her wished she could pretend he hadn't been; a small part of her wished she wouldn't have to deal with death that fateful night.

Fifteen minutes later and a slightly frazzled Andromeda Tonks had apparated just outside the wards of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa, already having dressed herself and prepared to take the trip to Godric's Hollow, allowed her sister in, offering a thankful smile. Once allowing her sister through the threshold of the manor, Narcissa glanced around the front door surreptitiously, making sure none of her husband's spies had witnessed the arrival of the banished once-Black. In a hushed voice, Narcissa thanked her older sister for taking care of her son at such late notice, and at such a late time (a quick tempus would have informed either woman that it was sixteen minutes past midnight), and assured her she'd be home soon enough.

"… Lucius shouldn't be coming home tonight, he told me he had 'business'" Narcissa shivered involuntarily, thinking of the sort of despicable actions her husband referred to as 'business', "to attend to. Draco's been asleep for hours and I dare say he won't wake before I return. You know what my boy's like; he'd sleep through the apocalypse." Andromeda, hearing all of this, merely rolled her eyes.

"Cissa, this isn't the first, and I'm sure it won't be the last, time that I've taken care of Draco while you've swept off into the night like a muggle superhero. Now go. If Albus was willing to risk fire calling the manor just to get your attention then I'm sure it's something important." And with that, Narcissa looped her pale arms around her sister, whispered her love and gratitude in the older woman's ear, and stepped outside her home. It was only a matter of moments before Narcissa had moved outside of the wards and apparated to Godric's Hollow. Of course, being the secret location that it was, wards kept her from apparating directly to the house. Instead her magic set her on the familiar path towards the Potter family home. Narcissa had followed the path for all of five-seconds before she smelt the scent of destruction heavy in the air, and barely five minutes before she could see it.

Godric's Hollow had been torn apart: caved in from the inside like a poorly baked soufflé. Narcissa felt her heart take residence in her throat, her pulse quicken with horror. The scent of thick smoke clawed its way into her nostrils and her eyes stung and watered with fear of what she might see as she approached the once beautiful home. Narcissa picked up her pace, now running towards the partially destroyed building. It had been over twenty minutes since Albus' fire call, and Narcissa quickly realised she was not the only person who had been summoned to the Potter's residence. It was there, on the steps of Godric Hollow, that she found her cousin, reeking of high doses of veritaserum and nearly drunk with mourning, blabbering about guilt and pain, and how it was all his fault. Narcissa inhaled sharply, forced to face the truth as she took in the devastated and dishevelled appearance of Sirius Black: Albus had said three deaths, there were three Potters. There was only one logical explanation for her cousin's heartache.

The Potters were dead.

Narcissa's heart broke right then and there. She thought of James, who she had never particularly liked whilst at Hogwarts, with his wild and unruly manner, his complete lack of contempt for rules and often pretentious attitude. But for all his faults, she thought of his heart of gold, how he had grown tremendously as a person since graduating, devoting his short adult life to being the best husband and, in the past year, father he could be, as well as being an admirable auror. No, Narcissa might not like James Potter, and probably would not miss his presence, but she could surely recognise that the world would be a darker place without him in it.

Logically, Narcissa thought of James' wife next, and was not surprised when tears threatened to spring to her eyes. The friendship which had quickly formed between Lily Evans and Narcissa Black in the Charms classroom their first year at Hogwarts was not common knowledge to anyone outside of the Order of the Phoenix. The women had had to keep up appearances, Narcissa the cold Slytherin and Lily the vivacious Gryffindor. However, the two students bonded over a passion for intellect and revelled in their differences, Lily's fiery spirit versus Narcissa's calm and collected nature, the two had been nearly instant friends, academic rivals and reliable confidantes all at once. Lily had been the first woman Narcissa had ever befriended outside of her family and, to this day, was one of the few people in the world Narcissa could honestly say had ever understood her completely. After graduating, when Narcissa had followed through on an arranged marriage to Lucius (primarily so she could spy on the Dark side of the war for Dumbledore) whereas Lily had followed her heart and married James, the two somewhat lost touch, but made sure to see each other at least once a week, outside of Order of the Phoenix meetings. In fact, it had been Lily's muggle heritage which brought the fantastic world of literature to Narcissa's attention; it had been Lily's copy of _Jane Eyre_ she had been relishing in before Albus tore her whole world apart from the safety of her fireplace earlier that night. The mourning which Narcissa felt now, realising that the woman she considered to be her closest friend was dead, was indescribable. She felt as if she had been punched in the gut, kicked in the head and thrown to the ground all at once. She felt her skin become cold, the blood in her veins freeze to ice, as she took in the knowledge. Despite the despair Narcissa felt building in the pit of her stomach, the pain she felt recognising the death of the most wonderful woman she had ever met, Narcissa had been asked her for a reason. Pushing her heartache away, promising to deal with it at a more practical time, Narcissa decided to move on.

Finally, she thought of little Harry, but a month younger than her own darling Draco. The thought of his death… No, it was too much for her to handle. The death of an infant, one so close in age to her own son, was too devastating for a mother to even think.

"Cissa?" A broken voice cried. Narcissa blinked, realising she had been standing in front of Sirius for some time now, lost in her own mind and grief, unspeaking and unmoving. Almost without thinking, her body propelled forward and she pulled her cousin into a deep hug. Much like with James, Narcissa had never particularly liked Sirius' headstrong, often arrogant, personality. But blood is blood, and she could appreciate many parts of the compassionate man, such as his loyalty and devotion to friends and family. Just as Narcissa had moved without thinking, propelled to alleviate the man's suffering, Sirius' strong arms quickly wrapped around her, enveloping her into a tight embrace. The man in her arms, once the image of hardiness and vigour, shook under the weight of his anguish, tears streaming down his dirty face (the soot from the home had clearly been falling on him for quite some time now) and sobs breaking his voice. Narcissa's heart ached as much for Sirius as it had for herself; he too had just lost his best friend.

"Narcissa," the wise voice of Albus came from inside the home, behind where Sirius and Narcissa stood in the doorway to the house. Narcissa opened her eyes to look at the elderly man, yet she kept her tight hold on her cousin. Albus appeared to had aged a further decade in the course of the night, his eyes which were so widely known for their perpetual twinkling now cold and hard, his good humour entirely disappeared by the severe tragedy.

"I'm glad you could make it so quickly." Albus came closer to the cousins, wrapping an empathetic arm around Sirius' shoulder. A few moments later Sirius let go of his cousin, dropping again to the stairs in front of the doorway and sinking into his despair. Albus sighed sadly, but merely wrapped an arm around Narcissa's shoulder and pulled her into the building.

"Albus," Narcissa nearly whimpered, the anguish she felt from the death of her friend threatening to seep through and unload right then and there. "Albus, what happened tonight?" The man sighed deeply and began to arrange his thoughts and words, Narcissa looked around the destroyed home as he did. Furniture was chaotically displaced around the room, chairs upside down, a couch somehow broken in half. The floor was littered with glass, mainly from photo frames. The Potters, particularly Lily, had always found great love in photos. There must be at least fifty different pictures of the infamous Marauders in this one room, the majority of which were now covering the ground. Narcissa felt a pang of sorrow in her chest as her eyes focused on an image of Lily and herself at graduation. The magical photograph showed the two young women, arms wrapped around each other, smiling brightly to the camera. Almost simultaneously, the two woman turned and looked at each other, laughing as if it were the happiest day of their lives. Narcissa pulled herself from Albus' grip and quickly picked up the image (her state of shock causing her to forget her wand), carefully folding it and storing it in her pocket before returning to Albus' side.

"Voldemort", Albus began, causing the fine blonde hairs on Narcissa's arms and neck to stand on edge, "Voldemort happened." Narcissa blinked with shock.

"But the Fidelius Charm-" She began to sputter before the old man cut her off.

"The Fidelius Charm only works, my dear, when the secret keeper keeps his secret." Confusion overwhelmed Narcissa. If she wasn't such a strong woman, she likely would have fainted right then and there.

"But Sirius was the secret keeper…"

"That's what I thought too, until tonight. The moment I arrived here and felt Voldemort's magical signature, I asked Hagrid to bring Sirius here, so I may understand how this could possibly occur. However, when Hagrid did find Sirius, the man was under detainment of aurors. Witnesses had reported the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles, at the hands of Black. Hagrid, loyal as he is and knowing how desperate I was to question Black, did all he could to have Sirius released, adamant that he would never murder someone in cold blood and insisting that Sirius be tried with veritaserum." Narcissa merely nodded, recalling the strong scent of veritaserum which had radiated from Sirius as she embraced him just moments earlier. "Of course, when Sirius did take the potion, his story did not change. Apparently, feeling he would have been the obvious secret keeper who Voldemort would interrogate, Sirius had rejected the title, offering that Peter be secret keeper instead."

Narcissa could not hold in a gasp as the dots started to connect in her mind. She had always been weary of Peter, but never believed he would do anything to harm any of his friends, particularly James who he idolised beyond all others. What sort of limits would Vol… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have to go to in order to make the man crack? Albus' head dropped as he took to staring at a photo of the four Marauders on the floor. It was of the day James had been appointed Chaser, and all the boys cheered and celebrated, looking happy as could be in the photograph. Peter was hugging James around the waist, a complete look of utter adoration filling his face as he looked up at the taller boy, while Sirius had his arms draped somewhat lazily around the shoulders of James and Remus.

"To appoint Peter as the secret keeper was a mistake. Alas, tonight it was discovered that Peter had been working as a spy for Voldemort for some time now. It's not all that surprising, when you think about it. Peter had always been attracted to power, it's the reason he worshipped James and Sirius so. If there was ever a wizard whose power was strong enough to be venerated, it's that of Voldemort." Narcissa nodded slowly, her heart sinking as she began to understand. Peter was not a bad man, but he was a weak one. And the power of Vold… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was enough to make even the strongest man bend to his will, might as well the meek Pettigrew.

"As you can see from the destruction around us, Peter sold James and Lily out to Voldemort. He then attempted to pass the blame on to Sirius, confronting him in a muggle town. He cast a Blasting Charm, murdering twelve muggles, before slicing off his own finger and transforming into a rat; his unregistered Animagus form. He ran away, attempting to fake his own death and leaving Sirius in a state of shock to take the blame. I do believe that Black would be sentenced to life in Azkaban, had Hagrid not insisted on the use of veritaserum." Narcissa felt sick to her stomach as she took this all in. Her best friend and Lily's family, now dead, all because Pettigrew was too weak to stand against power.

"And so, V…Vol… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came here, and murdered the Potters…" Narcissa cried, her voice breaking. Albus turned and looked at her quizzically, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly.

"It's true that James and Lily are now dead. They gave their lives defending little Harry. But that's where the truth in your deduction ends. See, in a peculiar turn of events, Voldemort's 'Avada Kedavra' was unsuccessful on the infant. We can't be too sure exactly what occurred, but Harry Potter is very much alive and well. The third death of this night was that of Voldemort's himself." The world suddenly spun on its axis and Narcissa felt physically dizzy at the understanding. The man who had started the war, the man who had terrorised her own and the families of countless others, was dead? The single most malicious wizard to have ever lived, so atrocious that even the thought of saying his name was too much for her to handle, had fallen at the hands of an infant? Narcissa didn't even notice when Albus took hold of her thin arms to keep her from sinking to the ground.

"But…Bu… But no-no-nobody has… Nobody has _ever_ survived the Killing Curse." She squeaked, her voice small. For the first time in her life, despite all she had seen, Narcissa Malfoy was not in a state of habitual calmness. Her entire world rocked back and forwards.

"Well, now someone has." A new voice entered the room. Despite her dazed state, Narcissa looked up to see Minerva McGonagall enter the room, a bundle of blankets held tightly to her chest. The blankets moved, ever so slightly, allowing Narcissa to see the dark head of Harry James Potter.

"I just don't understand." Narcissa whimpered.

"No one does, Narcissa. But it is true. Voldemort is, for now at least, gone from this world. Unfortunately it came at the cost of two extraordinary lives. But there is no denying that he is gone." Narcissa turned, moving her eyes from Harry's little head to Albus.

"And what of Harry? Where is he to go?"

"No plans have been made as of yet. He has an aunt and an uncle, muggles, who I might ask to take him in. It would be best to keep him with family; to keep him with someone who cares for him. And, I believe, it is best to keep him in a muggle world, at least until he's old enough to attend Hogwarts. There won't be a single witch or wizard who won't know his name; who won't know the legacy of the boy who lived. I think that a decade of living amongst muggles might do him good, before bombarded by his status as saviour." Albus' voice rung in Narcissa's ears, echoing for what seemed like an eternity. Aunt and uncle? He must be speaking of the Dursley's. Lily had told her all about her sister, the muggle so overcome with jealousy that she had made Lily's life a personal hell. And from what Narcissa had deducted, Petunia had married a man fitting of her own despicable personality.

"No." Narcissa found herself saying, before she could even think. Minerva gave her a quizzical look, whilst Albus, unseen by Narcissa, gave her a soft twinkle in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen from the moment he invited her here.

"No?" Minerva questioned, doubt clear in her voice.

"No. The Dursley's, Harry's aunt and uncle, won't look after him properly. Lily and James never would have wanted this. He can't stay with them."

"Well then, Narcissa, if you feel so strongly about this, then who do you suppose _should_ raise young Harry? The boy deserves a normal childhood, or as normal as possible. Therefore no witch or wizard can take him in. So, other than muggle relatives, _who_ do you suppose raise the boy?" Minerva's voice was laced with the same patronising tone she utilises on particularly daft students. Narcissa let out a shaky breath, knowing that the next words to come out of her mouth would likely change the rest of her life.

"I will." She stated. Minerva nearly laughed.

"Oh, and are you a muggle are you?"

"No, but I could be. For Harry. For Lily. I'll take Draco, escape into the muggle world. I was Lily's best friend, I know all about how their world works. She told me everything about her childhood. It won't be easy but I know I can do it, at least until it comes time for the boys to leave for Hogwarts. You _know_ that I can be trusted and you _know_ that I'm perfectly capable of raising him. This is what Lily would have wanted."

"I have no doubt, Narcissa, that you would do well to raise Harry. But what about your husband? Remember, the _Death Eater_? You can't possibly expect us to allow Harry to be raised in such an environment. In fact, you can't possibly imagine _he_ would allow Harry to be raised there either." Narcissa shook her head.

"Don't worry about Lucius, I'll take care of it. He won't ever lay a hand on Harry, not if I can help it. _I_ will be the one to raise him." At this point, Narcissa and Minerva both turned to look at Albus imploringly. Despite the tragedy of the night still heavy in all of their hearts, the man's twinkle was back in his eyes, excited about the prospects opening up. Albus looked at Narcissa with a soft smile and nodded, such a tiny movement that Narcissa nearly thought she had imagined it. He then looked to Minerva. What the woman saw in her coworker's eyes concerned her, yet it was enough for her to give up the fight. Once Albus got into his head that something was a good idea, there was no stopping him.

"Minerva, please help Narcissa to get Harry's things together. It's going to be a long night for them, trying to find some place of refuge." The two women found their way up the stairs to Harry's nursery. Glancing up, Narcissa noticed that where the roof had caved in, the night's stars had taken the ceiling's place. She thought back to her days at Hogwarts, recalling all those Astronomy classes she couldn't have cared less for at the time, and used that knowledge to locate the brightest star in the sky; Sirius. She sighed. Sirius had truly been named fittingly. The man, with his dazzling grin and flashy personality, was quite honestly the brightest wizard Narcissa had met… He was the physical manifestation of the 'Dog Star'. What he would do now, without his other stars in the sky, balancing him out, she did not know. His fate was a mystery to her.

Narcissa and Minerva worked quickly, pulling together Harry's clothes and favourite toys. Narcissa didn't bother with any baby supplies, as she would be on the run soon enough and would need to stock up once she found her own place to live. Once the women had filled a small bag with Harry's things (a bag charmed to fill much more than it appeared to be able), Narcissa turned to Minerva and requested to hold her new surrogate son. Minerva's face openly displayed suspicion.

"I want you to know that I still don't think this is a good idea. I'm not going to argue, for Albus' sake, but I think you're making a mistake. Have you even considered what you're getting yourself into, offering to adopt another child? Offering to raise him and Draco on your own? In a muggle world no less, where everything is harder to do. It's not too late Narcissa. We can find somewhere else for Harry." Minerva's eyes were kind, not harsh. She wasn't trying to scare the Slytherin; she knew that Narcissa was more than capable of doing a wonderful job of raising Harry, even in a muggle environment. But she needed to make sure the woman was aware of what she was sacrificing. She would lose her husband, her wealth, her comfortable lifestyle. After this night her life would be forever altered. Narcissa extended her arms and pulled baby Harry against her own chest, trying to conjure a response. She looked down at the child before she answered. His dark hair spattered wildly over his forehead, reminding her so much of his father's. She noticed at this point that a scar had taken place on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Recalling what little knowledge she possessed on curse scars, Narcissa presumed that this had occurred as the boy miraculously vanquished Volde…Voldemort. A pang of doubt suddenly reverberated throughout her body. Did she really want to do this? Could she handle becoming the surrogate mother of the boy who lived? Did she want her own Draco to be raised among side another child? The little boy in her arms, who had been asleep ever since she arrived in Godric's Hollow, now opened his eyes and looked up at her. In that moment, all of her doubts were swept away. The emerald eyes of the child, so similar to that of his mother's, made the decision that much easier for her. In fact, it took away her ability to make a choice at all. This was Lily's child, the son of her best friend. Narcissa would do everything in her power, would give her life, to assure that Lily's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"I'm sure, Minerva." Narcissa responded quietly. She glanced up, her eyes locking with those of her once-professor. "This is Lily's child." That was all the response she needed. Minerva nodded solemnly, recognising that nothing would keep Narcissa from taking care of Harry as if he were her own; he was practically already family, after all.

The two women descended the stairs and came face to face with Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling and a soft smile threatening to dance across his lips. The man approached Narcissa, stretching out his arms to firmly place a hand on either shoulder. They looked each other dead in the eye, a world of understanding between them.

"You will be fine, my dear. I know you will do well, so long as you remember to follow your heart… and the stars." With that cryptic message in mind, Narcissa escaped into the night, the stars dwelling in her heart and the photograph of happier days heavy in her pocket.

\- x -

Narcissa set herself the task of quickly packing Draco's clothes and favourite toys, much as she had but an hour earlier with Harry. The two boys were currently in Draco's cot, gurgling and playing with each other, completely unaware of the world falling apart outside of their protective bubble of infancy. Narcissa was exhausted, tiredness and emotional fatigue threatening to break her right then and there. Narcissa was, however, if nothing else, a Black; she was strong and she would get through this. Carefully putting up her shield, her calm and collected persona, she finished collecting Draco's things. She had already packed her own things, it was the first thing she had done upon returning to the manor much to the shock of her sister, who had begged to know what was happening. Narcissa had offered vague response as she collected the few muggle clothes and sentimental items she owned, along with her most valuable jewellery which she would be able to sell once amongst muggles. Something about Lily's death, the fall of a lord and the stars in the sky. Andromeda pulled enough together to understand the general gist, but was struggling to discern why her sister was packing so frantically. It didn't take her too long, however, to understand her sister was running away.

"Oh Cissy," Andromeda cooed from the doorway behind her. Narcissa squared her shoulders and strengthened her resolve. Nothing her sister could say would defer her. She was leaving, tonight, and would not return for at least a decade. "Please don't go. The boy has family who can look after him. You don't have to do this. Lily would understan-" Narcissa didn't let her finish. She whipped around, a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she pointed a sharp finger at her sister.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what Lily would or would not feel in this situation. Don't you _dare_ tell me what she would say. _I_ know… I _knew_ her better than anybody. I know what I have to do now. And I'm sorry that that means I have to leave tonight, truly, I am. I'm sorry that it means Draco will be raised without a father, without an aunt. But I _have_ to do this Andromeda, it's my duty." Narcissa shook and forced herself to remember her persona; calm, cool and collected. She could do this. She _would_ do this. Her sister's lips trembled, worry and sorrow overtaking her. Narcissa sighed, placing the bag filled with Draco's possessions on the floor, and swept forwards to embrace the older woman. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't want to leave you. I don't want to leave this life. But it's for the best. I _know_ that I have to do this. And it won't be forever. You'll see me again. You'll see Draco again. We'll be your family again, someday. It just so happens that day isn't today." Andromeda nodded, hugging the blonde tightly.

"I'm just going to miss you _so much_ , okay. Both of you. You know you're nearly all I have. And I hate to think of Nymphadora growing up without her cousin. You know how much Draco means to her. It's just _hard_ , okay. I know you need to do this. I know I need to let you do this. But, oh Merlin, I don't _want to_." For a terrifying moment, Narcissa thought the other woman might start crying. She was thankful when she didn't. If Andromeda started to cry, Narcissa couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't too, and that would be the end of it. At the moment, Narcissa's emotions were hanging on by a thread, her feelings stacked up like precarious dominos; one representing her mourning for her closest friend, another mourning the loss of the life she knows so well, one representing her love for her sister and her desire to not go and another symbolising her concern for her son, growing up in an unfamiliar world. If one domino fell, if she lost her grip on just one feeling, then everything would fall apart inside. She couldn't handle that; not quite yet.

"Where are you even going to go?"

"I don't know." Narcissa answered truthfully. While she might know the muggle world quite well, thanks to her friendship with Lily, she didn't have any contacts in this foreign environment. She wasn't concerned that she'd be able to find somewhere to live quite quickly, but for tonight, she had no idea where she might go. Suddenly, Albus' words resonated in her ears, and a short laugh escaped from her lips. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Andromeda, concerned upon hearing her sister laugh, pulled away from the embrace, looking the younger woman square in the eyes. In response, Narcissa merely smiled.

"Maybe I'll follow the stars."

\- x -

"Narcissa?" The confused voice of Remus Lupin questioned. Narcissa offered a fleeting smile before pushing past him, entering 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius, previously seated at the dining table with a mug of tea cradled in his shaking hands, jumped up at her arrival. His cousin had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and a child cradled in each of her arms, one with ebony hair, the other ivory.

"Harry?" Sirius breathed, mystification lacing his tone. His eyebrows raised as he looked to Narcissa, desperate for an explanation. The exhausted woman sighed, for what felt like the thousandth time that night, and quickly explained the situation.

"Someone needs to raise him. I volunteered and Albus accepted. He deserves a normal life though, not the life that the 'wizarding saviour' will surely be forced to experience." She spat the term 'wizarding saviour', her voice full of acid. Despite it being nearly three in the morning, on her way over to Grimmauld Place she had already heard the term whispered amongst wizards on the street. No, Albus was right. Harry certainly could not be raised in such an environment. "I'm taking him to live amongst muggles, where he'll just be a normal child. At least until he comes to Hogwarts."

"That's my Godson you're talking about." Sirius growled, taking a step towards the blonde woman. How _dare_ she try to take his last link to James away from him?

"I know, Sirius, which is why I'm here." She adjusted the two infants in her arms. Thankfully, they were both asleep, but that didn't make them much easier to carry. "I want you to come with me." Sirius blinked in shock. A gasp of surprise ripped itself from Remus' throat, who was still behind her.

"You want me to just leave? With _you_? No offence _Malfoy_ ," Narcissa winced at this. "But you and I have never really gotten along. What makes you think I would want to live with you and Lucius' spawn when I could just take my Godson now and raise him here. I am the closest living relative he has, _I_ am the person James would have wanted raising Harry. Not you. Do you think Dumbledore's wishes really mean _that much_ to me?" If Sirius had been thinking straight, he probably would have been able to recognise that he was overreacting. But it had been a long night, for everyone, particularly him. First he had discovered two of his best friends were dead, thanks to the cowardice of a man he had loved like a brother. Then he had witnessed said man murder twelve muggles and try to cast the blame on him. He had been detained by aurors and forced to drink veritaserum, a horrible tasting potion which burnt his throat more than fire whiskey ever could, just to prove he _hadn't_ , in fact, been the murderer of two of his favourite people in the world. Now, after nearly four hours of mourning, he was _so_ not in the mood to be threatened by anyone, especially Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa merely rolled her eyes.

"For Merlin's sake man, _think_ a little bit. I know more about the muggle world than you do, you can't deny it. Lily taught me everything I would ever have to know. And if Albus was right about one thing, it's that Harry deserves a normal upbringing. James might be his father, but Lily is his mother. Maybe he'll love attention, the way James did. Maybe he'd relish in being the 'boy who lived'. But if he takes after Lily at all, then you know just as much as I do, how much he would hate to live like that. He at least deserves a chance to be a normal boy before getting shoved into the spotlight. I know you might be a reckless Gryffindor but _please_ try to think this one through before you do anything stupid!" Narcissa breathed heavily, anger rushing through her veins. She was a mother above all else; her instincts knew what was best for Harry, and Merlin's beard, she was going to get it for him. Just as Sirius was about to respond, his skin flushed with anger indicating that a scathing remark was about to be shot in Narcissa's direction, a soft voice piped up from behind them.

"She's right, Padfoot." Both biological Blacks turned at that point, surprised to recall that Remus was still in the room. "He at least deserves a shot. He deserves to live in the muggle world before bombarded by the chaos this one promises. And if you want to be in that world with him, then you need Narcissa. She knows more than we do." The quiet man nodded, trying to use a physical reaction to convince his last remaining friend that this was the only reasonable course of action. Narcissa was suddenly very glad for his existence. Remus had always been her favourite Marauder, the only one with enough sense to think a situation through before doing the first thing that came to his mind. Clearly, Sirius seemed to think so too, as his shoulders hunched in defeat.

"A'right." He mumbled after a few moments of staring at the floor. The flush of anger had nearly disappeared from his skin, although a faint tinge near his neck betrayed his previous reaction. He slowly looked up, glancing from Remus to Narcissa, before nodding seriously. "He's my Godson. I need to make sure he's okay. I _need_ to be there for him. Unfortunately, as pointed out by Moony," his voice dropped sullenly, like a moody teenager. "I need you to be able to do that. I need you in order for Harry to have the best upbringing possible; in order to assure the happiness of James' son." Sirius took a few steps forward, stretching out his arms and offering to take the ebony haired boy from Narcissa, who seemed to be struggling under the weight of the two infants. After spending some time considering it, Narcissa carefully shifted Harry into Sirius' arms. Her cousin smiled sheepishly and it was silently agreed; they would move to the muggle world together, the most unconventional family to have ever existed.

"So where to now?" Sirius asked. Narcissa sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly? I have no idea."

"I do. At least for tonight." Remus murmured, stepping closer to the cousins. "Just stay here for one night, it surely can't hurt. There's no way you'll be able to find a muggle home to stay in, not at this time of the night." As if on cue, the giant grandfather clock in the hallway struck, signalling it had just hit four a.m. Narcissa chewed the thought over for a moment before nodding. It had been a very long and exhausting night for her as well, and the thought of trying to find somewhere to stay at such a late (or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it) time would tip her over the edge.

"Okay. But first thing in the morning we leave and find somewhere else to stay. If anyone sees Harry, if anyone recognises him, then it's too late and we won't be able to escape." Narcissa reasoned, tightening her grip on Draco, who suddenly felt extremely heavy in her tired arms. Sirius nodded, agreeing. He turned to Remus.

"Stay the night Moony. So I can say goodbye in the morning. And so you can say goodbye to Harry." Remus agreed. All exhausted, Sirius led them upstairs. Remus chose a room he had slept in a number of times before, kissing Harry on the forehead before departing to sleep. Sirius showed Narcissa and Draco to the bedroom next to his own.

"Thank you Sirius. Not just for the room, but for seeing sense. I could do this without you, you know." Sirius nodded.

"Yeah I know."

"But I'm glad I don't have to." She admitted sheepishly, looking down at her silver haired child. It would be difficult enough raising one boy alone, without the assistance of magic. She'd nearly go crazy if she had to raise two. She smiled tiredly at her cousin, who was as equally lost in his own thoughts as she was. "Goodnight, Sirius."

"Goodnight, Narcissa." And with that, the blonde woman shut the door and crept into bed, not even bothering to change her clothes as fatigue overwhelmed her. She wrapped her son against her chest as she pulled the heavy blankets over their bodies. She thought absently of Harry in the room next door, with Sirius, and smiled. The boy would grow up happily, even if it killed her. Both of her boys would grow up happy. Narcissa absently kissed the pale head of her own son, who wriggled a little bit, confused to be away from his usual cot.

"It's all going to be okay, my sweet boy." She whispered, lips pressed against his fine hair. "The war is over. I'll never let anyone or anything hurt you." Suddenly remembering the photograph in her pocket, Narcissa pulled it out and smiled sadly at her best friend. The image of the two happy young women was blurred as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Thank you Lily." She quickly stopped speaking quickly upon hearing her own voice nearly break. Instead, she thought the rest. _'Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for ending the war. Thank you for your son. Most of all, thank you for being my friend'_. A single tear dribbled down Narcissa cheek as she shut her eyes, hoping sleep would take her quickly.

It had been a long night. The war may have ended, but the rest of their lives was only just beginning. However, she wasn't afraid. Albus' voice echoed in her ears. Everything was going to be alright, so long as they managed to follow their hearts… and the stars.

\- x -

Author's Note: _**Alright STOP!**_

 _ **Collaborate and listen**_ _ **…**_ Okay that was lame I apologise. Ty very much if you did stop though you're my favourite person already. Trust me, I know how annoying author notes are, especially long ones, and I have a bad habit of always skipping past them (woops) but I promise not to really write one (okay, maybe not promise, but I'll try my hardest) for other chapters I just had a couple of things to mention. Okay soooo, aside from a couple of one shots I've never done much HP fanfic, mainly out of fear of how big the universe is and how little my knowledge is. So, as you can tell if you actually did just read this first chapter, this story will predominantly be AU. Having said that I'm trying to stick to the facts as much as I can. With such a big fandom though I'm likely to make a few canon mistakes so please don't bite my head off when I do this.

I would love love looove to get everyone's feedback on what you think of the story. You know, motivate me to keep going. Otherwise I'll just spend all my time doing other things and you'll never get to see how this lovely little unconventional family works together in the muggle world *rubs hands together evilly, greedy for love and attention*. So, if you do like this chapter, make sure to let me know whether this story's worth continuing or not. If I decide that it is I'll probably write up a few chapters before I publish again, just so I can have a bit of a stockpile for you. Anyway, I sincerely hope to be writing for you all very soon *the sound of crickets chirping plays in the background, since this story only just came into existence and therefore I'm talking to myself right now but let's just ignore that little fact*

Also the story will usually be from Draco or Harry's perspectives, but occasionally we might see things from someone else's POV.

Also warning you right now, I have no idea (okay so I have a _super vague_ idea) of where this story is going but I can nearly guarantee that there will be HP/DM slash (okay let's be honest I can guarantee because this boys are perfect for each other and I can't imagine them with anyone else lol) but this probably won't happen for quite a few chapters so just be patient you silly people

Anyway, ttyl (I'm pretty lame let's be honest)


	2. Chapter 2 - Growing Pains

Chapter Two – Growing Pains

 _Previously in Following the Stars: "Thank you Lily." She quickly stopped speaking quickly upon hearing her own voice nearly break. Instead, she thought the rest._ _'Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for ending the war. Thank you for your son. Most of all, thank you for being my friend'_ _. A single tear dribbled down Narcissa cheek as she shut her eyes, hoping sleep would take her quickly._

 _It had been a long night. The war may have ended, but the rest of their lives was only just beginning. However, she wasn't afraid. Albus' voice echoed in her ears. Everything was going to be alright, so long as they managed to follow their hearts… and the stars._

1989

"Wakey wakey, eggs and Drakey!" A decidedly _un_ civilised grunt tumbles from the mouth of Draco Malfoy as he's dragged into the world of the living, and the awake. Desperate for another hour, another minute, another _second_ of sleep, the ice prince rolls over, burying his face in his pillow with the hope of drowning out the voice of the ebony haired nuisance currently doing everything in his power to ruin Draco's morning.

"Go away." Draco mumbled, his voice further muffled through the pillow. A familiar giggle assaults his ears, but other than that the aggravator does not respond. Draco, knowing the younger boy far too well, doesn't let himself even hope for a second that Harry might acquiesce to his wishes and allow him the luxury of sleep. In fact, the thirty-seconds of silence that follow merely make him fear for the worst.

Draco's fears are realised as he feels the fiend fling himself onto his bed. The silver haired boy expels a deep sigh, finally giving up on any hope of a sleep in, as the rambunctious child jumps around his head, making a mess of his habitually flawless head of hair.

"Draco… wake… up…" Harry grunts between jumps, giggling all the while. Suddenly Draco, who had just a moment before been silent and perfectly still, pounces like a snake attacking its prey, reaching out to grab Harry's legs and dragging him into a horizontal position. A playful squeal of delight erupts from Harry's throat as the older boy's finger's assault his ribs in a shower of tickles.

"Draco… stop… that… tickles!" The child squeals, his high pitched laugh filling the small bedroom. Draco can't help the soft smirk that dances on his lips, nor the playful glint which touches his eyes. After a few minutes, just as quickly as he had started, Draco ceases the fire of tickles. As the assault end, he drapes a lazy arm across the smaller boy's stomach, trapping him in a horizontal prison cell. The raven haired boy gasps, attempting to catch his breath after being tickled for so long, before a bright grin lights up his face. Draco turns his face ever so slightly, still lying on his stomach but now facing the other boy. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut though, quite unsuccessfully feigning sleep. Harry, finally catching his breath, turns his own head to face the silver haired boy, giggling quietly. Slowly, Draco opens a single leisurely eye to glance at the child. He can't keep a smile from his own lips upon seeing the bright grin radiating from Harry's face.

"Good morning Draco." Harry chirped, his voice brighter than the sun. Draco grunts, not that he would ever admit to making such a sound.

"What's so good about it?" Harry giggles.

"Did you forget? It's out first day back at school, silly!" A pale hand reaches out and tugs on one of Draco's silver locks playfully. Draco raises an artfully sculpted eyebrow in question.

"Of course I didn't forget. However, my question remains. _What_ is so good about this morning?" Harry rolls his eyes.

"Don't be so silly, Dray. Just because you don't want to _share_ me with anyone else." The boy giggled as Draco rolled his eyes.

"And why on earth would I care whether or not you play with one child or a hundred?" Harry smirks in response.

"Because you love me."

"Oh do I now?"

"Uh huh." Draco shakes his head and pulls his skinny arm back, releasing Harry from his prison. Of course, everything that the smaller boy had just said was true. The first day back after summer break was always the worst for Draco, as his best friend had the most _unfortunate_ habit of being a delight to all around him. Harry's bubbly personality and bright grin made him a magnet, attracting every child in their year (along with a number of older and younger children, if Draco were to be entirely honest) and consequently leaving Draco all alone. Not that he particularly minded. While Harry was squealing with laughter, playing with any and every other child in the playground, Draco was allowed the luxury of reading, a precious commodity when one lived in a home with the loudest child to have ever existed. He was happy enough in the company of his books, immersing himself in fantastical and beautiful worlds, honestly he was. However, he could not deny the pang of hurt he felt deep in his chest whenever Harry would joke with someone else. Harry was the only friend Draco ever needed… Why couldn't he be enough for the smaller boy too?

Expelling such ridiculous and petty thoughts from his mind, Draco shoves himself from the bed, although he can't keep his eyes from grazing the blankets lovingly. The boy took immense pleasure from all of life's luxuries, although sleep was quite likely his favourite. His eyes flickered quickly to Harry, who smiles sweetly at him as he follows him out of the bed, their short conversation clearly over. Following their usual habits, Harry departs for the dining room, hunting down breakfast, while Draco saunters towards the bathroom to prepare his appearance. Draco and Harry had been companions, best friends and brothers for the past eight years, as long as they had lived with each other and as far back as either boy could remember. It was long enough to build a ritual; a dance that each boy lived by in perfect unison with one another. Draco would shower in the mornings, Harry in the evenings. In the afternoons Draco would read, diving into the world of literature, while Harry, always curled up against his side, would draw. On weekends, Harry would find joy in running about on a field, playing whatever sport his endless cohort of friends would be willing to amuse him with, while Draco would watch, silently cheering from the sidelines. They had always fit together like two puzzle pieces, the perfect combination, brothers to the very end.

Of course, Draco's mother had always made sure they were aware of the facts; of how Harry's parents, best friends of Sirius and Narcissa, had passed away when the boys were just babies so Sirius and Narcissa had decided to raised them together. However, the understanding that they _weren't_ in fact brothers did nothing to dissuade their bond. They were Harry and Draco, the perfect inseparable pair balancing each other out. Draco was the only person capable of drawing Harry back when he was acting like an insufferable, spoilt brat and Harry was the only person capable of making Draco smile when he was in one of habitual bad tempers. They were _just_ argumentative enough to enjoy their ceaseless tiffs, the only two people (aside from Narcissa herself) who were unafraid to stand up against each other, to step on each other's toes. Yes, for as long as Draco could remember, Harry had been there, tearing him down when his ego got the best of him, building him up when his surprising insecurities ate him alive and filling a void none other could ever take. As sad as the death of his best friend's parents made him, a selfish voice often whispered in the back of Draco's mind that the demise of James and Lily Potter was fate; that Harry was meant to grow up with him, meant to be his best friend.

Of course, Draco feels horrible whenever thoughts like this invade his mind. Like right now, as he stands in the shower washing shampoo from his silky locks. Nonetheless, he can't help but shudder, imagining how different his life would be if Harry weren't a part of it. Draco shakes his head quickly, as he turns off the shower and steps out. He _refuses_ to think of such thoughts. He was Draco, and Harry was Harry; they belonged together, friends for life.

Draco takes another half an hour to dry and comb his hair and dress himself for the day before joining his family in the dining room. Immediately, the scent of his mother's Bi-Annual 'Back to School' breakfast graces his nose and delights his tastebuds, his mouth inconspicuously starting to water. Everything from bacon and eggs to pancakes and waffles are laid out on the table, complete with orange juice and hot chocolate. Draco smiles softly to himself; his mother had outdone herself this morning. A squeal of laughter drags Draco's eyes to the far end of the table, where Harry sits next to his godfather, Draco's uncle Sirius. Of course, Sirius wasn't _really_ his uncle, not on a technically. He was his mother's cousin though, their closeness often causing them to refer to each other as brother and sister. His mother often told Draco that there was once a time she did not like Sirius; once a time she thought him too headstrong, too reckless to be of likeable character. Draco would laugh hearing this, as the thought of anything less than a great friendship between the two people who raised him appeared a joke. The idea that they once hadn't even _liked_ each other seemed ridiculous. Draco smiles to himself now just imagining it, watching Harry and Sirius laughing with each other at the table. Sirius was another person who wouldn't be in his life if it weren't for the deaths of Lily and James Potter, another reason for him to feel morbidly thankful for their demise.

As Draco draws closer, taking the seat beside his best friend, Draco notices the Nutella covering Harry's nose, clearly the reason for the giggles which erupt from his chest. Draco rolls his eyes.

"Harry, haven't I ever told you not to play with your food." Draco nudges an elbow into the smaller boy's ribs, a smirk playing on his pink lips. Harry's eyes twinkle with amusement as he smirks back.

"Wasn't me." Harry giggles. "It was Sirius' fault!" The raggedy-haired man chuckles deeply at this, reaching out to ruffle his Godson's wild mane even further.

"Now don't you dare blame me for your mess, Prongslet. I'm an innocent bystander in your dastardly games." Harry giggles once again, attempting to stretch his tiny tongue to lick the chocolate-substance from his nose. Shaking his head incredulously, Draco reaches for a napkin to wipe the condiment from his companion's face. The raven-haired boy pouts an adorably pink lower lip in dissatisfaction.

" _You're_ no fun, Drakey." Harry whines, although Draco can hear the playful edge to his voice.

"I might not be fun but at least I'm sanitary. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for _some_." Harry's perfectly square, pearly white teeth shine in a sheepish smile. At that moment, ringing like a bell, the clear laugh of Narcissa Malfoy is heard by the three boys as she exits the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee for her and Sirius held in her delicate hands.

"Oh boys," She sighs, amusement clear in her voice. "You keep me young." She hums slightly as she pours her dear cousin a fresh coffee, the man smiling gratefully back at her. "Now hurry up dears, we have to leave soon or you'll be late for school." At that, Harry takes the last bite of his pancakes, which had long since gone cold, as Draco aligns a piece of bacon on a plain piece of toast. Despite taking pleasure from the luxuries of life, Draco's tastes were often minimalistic in nature. Such was true when he regarded food. His younger friend danced into the kitchen to clean his dishes. Narcissa takes Harry's place at the table, collecting her own breakfast. She turns to her son, a graceful eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "How are you feeling sweetheart?" She questions, her voice low. Although she doesn't say it explicitly her true question is clear; how does Draco feel about going back to school and subsequently losing Harry's constant attention. Draco merely shrugs, a tiny movement as he doesn't wish to appear outwardly upset.

"I'll be fine. You know I have Orwell and Dickens to keep me company." He jokes, his voice light. Narcissa smiles softly, reaching out a pale hand to stroke her son's smooth hair.

"My precious boy, far too smart for your nine years." Draco's fine features crumpling in distaste to his mother's touch. Draco has never handled the physical contact of anyone, aside from Harry of course, particularly well. Even that of his mother.

"I just like to read, mother." The boy murmurs, ducking his head in embarrassment and pretending to be quite interested suddenly in his barely touched breakfast.

"Whatever you say dear." Narcissa laughs, similarly diverting her attention to her own breakfast. Beside her Sirius chuckles, grinning brightly to the boy he has treated as a nephew and a surrogate son for the past eight years.

"Well Draco," he begins, his deep voice solemn. "You don't _need_ to make friends with authors you know. You _could_ always play with Harry. You know he'd love it." Sirius' eyes twinkle with amusement as he takes in the silver-haired boy's horrified expression.

"Sirius, please. As if I could ever lower myself to games of tag and catch with those germ-infested cesspools." The boy sniffs his pale nose in the air, expressing his disdain at the mere thought. The two adults who raised him merely roll their eyes and offer each other a pointed look.

"Well Narcissa, one thing's for certain. He most certainly _is_ his father's son." Instantly, Narcissa and Draco tense up at the reference of the third Malfoy member. The wild haired Black merely chuckles under his breath, not noticing the tension quickly filling the room.

Lucius Malfoy was certainly a taboo subject within the Malfoy-Potter-Black household; he had been for as long as Draco could remember. In fact, he could count everything his mother had ever said about the man on the one hand.

He knew that he shared his pale locks and silver eyes with the older man.

He knew that his father worked closely in politics.

He knew that the union between his parents had been the result of an arranged marriage, and not based on any foundation of love or even compassion.

He knew that his father had banned Charlotte Bronte's _Jane Eyre_ from what could have been Draco's childhood home, claiming that he didn't want the text giving Narcissa, to quote, 'any funny ideas'.

Draco knew that his father had been mixed up in some sort of sordid business, a gang of sorts. He knew that the older Malfoy's loyalty to the gang's leader, someone Narcissa would only ever refer to as 'a mad man', had been strong enough to place their entire small family at risk.

And now, thanks to Sirius, Draco knew that he had somehow just acted in a manner reminiscent of the morally-corrupt man. The fine hairs on Draco's arms stand up on end as goose bumps swarm his delicate skin… the thought was enough to make him sick to his stomach. The handful of things that Draco did know about his father were enough for him to know he never wanted to be anything _like_ the man; he would never touch politics, would only ever marry for love, would value literature and education as much as humanly possible and would forever adhere to his own strict code of moral principles. Draco, cold and rigid as he often was, refused to be the kind of man who would choose a gang over his own family.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, Draco hears the scrape of Sirius' chair against the floorboards. The blonde vaguely registers a scathing comment by his mother regarding his uncle's dismal treatment of the high-quality floor and a meek apology on the scruffy-haired man's behalf, although he's too caught up in his own thoughts to really care.

Twenty minutes later, once all the dishes have been cleaned, teeth have been brushed and, in Harry's case, an attempt to comb hair had been made, the two boys find themselves climbing out of Narcissa's black Audi, having arrived at the school. Within all of ten seconds Harry has kissed his surrogate mother goodbye and run off into the yard, hoping to greet his friends before classes begin. Draco attempts to follow the ruffian, although his mother has other ideas.

"Draco," she murmurs, so softly that at first the blonde doesn't realise that she has spoken at all. "Draco." She repeats, slightly louder as she notices him trying to walk away. Slowly, the young blonde turns to face his mother, recognising the tone in her voice. It was the same tone she used on the day she informed him of Harry's orphan status (at four years old she had decided the boys were old enough to understand); it was the same tone that meant she had something serious to discuss. Draco lets out a shaky breath although he schools his features into a careful, calm mask. He knows what the subject will be before she even opens her mouth, her icy blue eyes piercing into his own.

"My sweet dragon, you _know_ how Sirius often forgets to filter his words before her speaks." Draco nods, not allowing any emotion to cross his mask. "I need you to know, my sweet boy, that you are not your father." Once again, goose bumps flutter along Draco's arms. His mother's gaze continues to pierce his own, as if searching for some sign to continue speaking. "One day, there will be people in your life… people who will see only him when they look at you; people with certain expectations of you. I want you to understand that you don't have to fulfil these expectations. You _are_ and always will be your own person. Nobody can take that away from you. Not me, not Harry, and certainly not… certainly not Lucius." Draco internally curses himself as he feels his lower lip falter, shaking slightly upon hearing his father's name for the second time that day. He knows that Narcissa notices this weakness immediately, as her icy eyes melt into a warm puddle of compassion. "Do you understand, Draco?"

The young child couldn't say that he could understand. His father was not a part of his life; why would people ever expect to see any sort of correlation between their actions? However, he nods slowly. His mother often offered him cryptic messages, little pieces of advice he would have to save for later, when the time was right. He assumes that her words now are of that variety and he files the short speech away in his mind. His mother smiles softly, her pink lips relaxing in such a way as to give her expression a nearly childlike essence.

"I understand, mother." Draco murmurs, offering a quick smile back before he turns to leave her. Narcissa, knowing how her son has never been fond of her touch, or of goodbyes, merely returns to her car and departs for her work as an interior designer with Dwyer Designs. Walking towards the school, Draco is lost in his own musings and imaginations of a silver-haired man with the coldest eyes he could possibly imagine.

\- x -

Two lessons later, Draco sits alone in the quiet library, engrossed in C.S Lewis' _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ ; one of his more accessible favourites. The boy didn't like to brag, but he knew his mother was right when she praised him for his intelligence. Okay, that was a lie, the boy _loved_ to brag, although he'd never admit it. He loved knowing that he could read and understand texts that many of his peers would require another decade of developing just in order to make sense of. However, that didn't mean that he didn't love classic children's literature just as much, if not more, than the novels his mother habitually immersed herself in.

Just as Draco remembered before Summer break, the library was dead quiet (it was recess after all, and most of the students preferred monkey bars to reading). For as long as he and Harry had been at this school, Draco had spent every moment of his spare time in the library, always in the exact same seat; a plush violet beanbag situated next to a large arched window, close enough that he could see outside yet hidden so that no one else could see in. He couldn't possibly have any of the dirty hooligans Harry, for whatever reason, decided to claim as his _friends_ , seeing him, Draco Malfoy the ice prince, curled up without a scrap of elegance on a bean bag. Could you even _imagine_ how mortified he would feel? So no, he could not allow himself to be seen from the outside. However, considering an incessant desire to know that his best friend was safe, Draco had strategically found a vantage position for his smaller friend's antics. Every day, Draco would watch his best friend play soccer, play tag on the playground or whatever else he wanted on that day, all from his sanctuary of the library. And at no point, on any day, had he ever been disturbed.

Until today.

"Ehem." Draco's eyebrows nearly fly off of his face in shock as his ears pick up the sound of another person around him. Carefully disciplining his features, Draco glances up lazily to find the source of the disturbance. He is not impressed with what, or more accurately _who_ , he sees.

Initially, he thinks that the girl in front of him _must_ be a tuft of walking hair. He had always referred to Harry's dark, messy locks as a mane but it was only now with a human embodiment of hair standing before him, that Draco realised just how far off the mark he had been. The brunette curls must take up at least as much space as the width of her face on either side of her head, and equally as much atop her head. The bushy curls had been haphazardly tied back at the nape of the girl's neck in a failed attempt to subdue the mane, although Draco guessed that the locks would reach her mid-back if they were let free. Blinking twice in order to ensure that what he was seeing was not, in fact, a mirage but a true person standing before him, Draco focuses his attention on the child's face. Dark eyes and a plain mouth look back at him. The girl's face is nothing extraordinary, nothing special; she is neither beautiful nor ugly. However, Draco can't help but perceive a flame burning in her chestnut eyes. There is something unexpected about this girl, something he has scarcely encountered before within others. Immediately, Draco knows that he'll have to pay extra special attention to her.

"Ehem." Draco blinks again and can't help it when his eyebrows wrinkle with annoyance at the girl's unremitting 'eheming'.

"May I help you?" The blonde muses, his voice as smooth and sticky as honey. It's the kind of voice one could get lost in, swept up by the melodic tone.

"Perhaps." The girl responds, offering the pale boy a toothy grin. Draco resists the temptation to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the open excitement expressed on the girl's face. Other than Harry and, to an extent Sirius, Draco has never been able to stand people who display their emotions openly on their face. He had always found it took away some of the mystery, the thing he found the most fascinating about humans, when he could read their emotions so openly. "I was actually curious whether you might be able to give me a tour of the library. You see, I'm new here this year and so far this library is so radically different to the one I'm used to and I'm honestly a bit perplexed." Draco resists the temptation to roll his eyes. He does _not_ need to know this girl's life story. Perhaps he was wrong about the fire he initially witnessed blazing in her dark eyes. So far, this girl seems just as dull as everyone else he's ever met.

"Well, there's not much to tell you. It's a library, it follows the Dewey Decimal Classification system. Happy reading." With that, Draco sniffs his nose and once again attempts to immerse himself in his novel.

"Ehem." Draco fights the desire to grind his perfect teeth together, not wanting to destroy them for the sake of an annoying girl. He glances up, hoping his sardonic expression is enough to dissuade the girl from his company. She smiles once more, hostility creeping into her eyes. "Of course I know _that_. However, my school used the Library of Congress Classification system and I've had no experience with Dewey. You appeared quite, erm, _comfortable_ within the library and I was merely hoping you might extend a little assistance to a fellow bookworm. Of course, I've read all about the system… I just often find it helpful to have such things described to me by another person." Draco exhales slowly as he returns his bookmark to the page he had been reading but two minutes earlier, finally accepting the unlikelihood of the girl leaving him alone.

"If you insist." Draco drawls as he gracefully slides from his beanbag (well, as gracefully as one _could_ slide from a beanbag at least). The girl smiles brightly, something Draco has started to realise is an irritating habit of hers.

Half an hour was not enough time for this girl's vexing tendency to habitually express her full range of emotions on her face to grow on the blonde. However, he discovered within ten minutes that he didn't hate her as much as he had assumed he would. The girl, whose name it turned out was Hermione, was smart, witty and easy to talk to. She was the first person he had ever met his own age who had read more than he had. In fact, she was the first person his own age he had ever met who he understood and shared his passion for literature. Although it would pain him to admit it aloud, Draco felt like there might even be, dare he say it, a friendship blossoming between the curly-haired girl and himself.

It turned out that Hermione was in Draco's form group. How he had missed her, considering the fact that her hair stood out like a florescent orange elephant juggling in the middle of a court room, he had no idea. Perhaps he had just been too focused, savouring the final moments when Harry cared about him and only him. Nonetheless, he was glad when, twenty minutes into their library discussion (it had only taken eight minutes for Draco to describe the Dewey Decimal System but the two had found it difficult to stop talking once they started) Hermione had informed him that they shared Mrs Wrangler as a teacher. The brunette had exclaimed excitedly upon discovering this, enthusing about the exceptional quality that their group assignments would be. Draco decided not to pop her bubble by enlightening her that he always chose Harry as a partner. Instead, Draco actually smiled, murmuring quietly (and surprisingly honestly) that he'd like that. Draco and Hermione were so engrossed by their conversation that they nearly missed the bell reminding them that class was resuming. That's how Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger burst into Mrs Wrangler's classroom ten minutes late. The first thing Draco noticed was the scathing expression on his best friend's face, emerald eyes glaring daggers into Hermione. Draco felt his eyebrow raising slightly in confusion; what did Harry have against Hermione?

The rest of the day was uneventful. Harry refused to speak to his best friend, no matter how hard Draco tried. He had even been willing to sacrifice his library time if it meant hearing what was wrong with his surrogate brother. However, Harry had merely run off, faster than Draco could follow. Begrudgingly, Draco had departed to the library with Hermione, where they had argued whether _My Brilliant Career_ was worthy of being considered among the greats in a literary canon (Hermione was for whilst Draco against). The silver haired boy had never felt as alive as he had attempting to shoot down Hermione's profession that Harold Beecham should be recognised as one of literature's most romantic characters. His blood coursed through his veins, his heart beat impossibly fast in his chest and he hadn't even realised the bright grin spread across his lips. It felt incredible to finally have a fellow intellectual he could facilitate such debates with.

As incredible as talking to Hermione was, a large part of Draco couldn't keep his mind from his best friend; more specifically, the fact that his best friend was avoiding him. The ride home from school that afternoon was excruciating. It was extremely rare for Harry to be quiet, might as well silent. And the very few times he ever had given his family the silent treatment, such treatment had never been extended to Draco. The smaller boy hadn't talked to Draco for seven hours, a feat that had never been achieved before, aside from when they were sleeping. It had only been a matter of hours but Draco was already nearing his wit's end.

"Draco? Honey?" Draco merely grunts in response and wraps his duvet closer around him. Despite it only being five o'clock, the boy had been swaddled in his bed for an hour, partly due to his sleep in being cut so short that morning and partly to wallow in misery over his best friend's rejection. Narcissa Malfoy merely rolls her eyes and enters her son's bedroom. Draco feels the bed jostle slightly as his mother takes a seat at the foot of his mattress.

"Yes, mother?" Draco questions as he squeezes his eyes shut. He is _so_ not interested in a deep and meaningful conversation full of a discussion about the silent treatment plaguing their home. Draco fully expects his mother to open her mouth and attempt to tease out his own voice. Instead, he feels her delicate hand press comfortingly against his shoulder. Surprisingly, instead of shying away from the touch, Draco leans into it, treasuring the warmth.

"I don't know what I've done." Draco whispers, his voice hoarse. "Everything was fine for the first couple of lessons today. And then suddenly he just wouldn't talk to me. It just doesn't make any sense. He's _never_ been like this before." Draco is glad for the silence that ensues. Of course, that silence doesn't last. A few minutes later his mother responds.

"Dragon, Harry is in your life for a reason. Nobody would _ever_ say that James and Lily's death was a good thing. Lily was my best friend, she was the only person I had ever entirely opened up to, and I would give _anything_ to bring her back." Narcissa lets out a shaky sigh as her emotions overcome her. "However, their death, no matter how tragic it was, was meant to be. It brought Harry and Sirius into our home. It brought our family together. In ways that you don't understand yet, their death saved the world… or at least our world.

"Honey, I don't expect you to understand yet. But one day you will. And when that day comes you'll understand that Harry was meant to be in our life; it was fate for you two to be as close as you are. Always treasure that baby. Always protect your friendship; always protect your friend.

"There are terrible people in this world. The monsters that Sirius told you lived in your closet when you were five years old… well, they're not the monsters you should really be afraid of." Draco frowns in confusion, turning to face his mother. Narcissa takes the movement as a positive sign, changing in position so she's lying next to him. She smiles softly, but the sadness in her eyes makes it clear that it's not a _real_ smile.

"What do you mean?" Narcissa merely shakes her head.

"That's not for you to know yet, sweetheart. But one day you'll understand. Just look after Harry, okay? He's in your life for a reason. He's in _our_ life for a reason. And one day he's going to need us and I _know_ that we'll be there for him. Never take him for granted, okay honey?" Draco takes his lower lip between his teeth, a nervous habit he had never been able to fight off. Of _course_ he would always be there for Harry. Of _course_ he would never take their friendship for granted. He didn't understand why his mother was being so insistent on this, or how it related to the younger boy's recent cold shoulder. But, just like every time his mother gave him cryptic information like this he takes it on board. Draco nods slowly and doesn't even pull away when his mother wraps her arms around him, drawing him into a tight hug.

They stay like that twenty minutes, each lost in their own train of thought.

"I think I should go and try to talk to Harry." Draco whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. While he knows his words are true, he wishes he didn't even have to say them. Draco _hates_ admitting when he's wrong, and whilst he has no idea what he's done, he knows that Harry wouldn't act like this for no reason. Draco, at some point in the next half an hour, is going to need to admit to his own wrongdoing and apologise for it. Narcissa smiles, giving her son one last tight squeeze before she climbs out of his bed. Draco follows her but, where she heads towards the living room to join Sirius, Draco departs in the hallway towards Harry's bedroom.

Draco takes a deep sigh standing outside of his best friend's room; the bedroom he knows nearly better than his own. That fact in itself should be enough to calm his nerves. Rationally, Draco knows that Harry won't reject him forever. But every time he tries to talk to the boy, just to have his attempts met with silence, a little piece of Draco dies inside. Swallowing his nerves, and his pride, Draco opens the door and walks in.

He's not particularly surprised to see Harry curled into a ball under his duvet, remarkably similar to how Draco had been positioned when Narcissa had come into his room. Draco and Harry had an impossibly long list of differences between them; however, their similarities included a tendency to hide from the world when it felt like everyone was against them. Rather than talking, as his mother had earlier with him, Draco immediately climbs into bed with the smaller boy, wrapping his arms around his best friend's torso. Harry stiffens for an impossibly short moment before relaxing into the embrace. Draco exhales thankfully; he wasn't sure he would be able to keep from breaking down if he had been rejected again. They stay like that for a long time in silence, Draco treasuring Harry's scent, the oaky aroma of the forest, and cherishing the familiar warmth of the smaller boy against his body.

"I'm sorry." Draco finally croaks, voice quieter than a whisper. "I don't know what I've done, but I'm so sorry." Draco's arms squeeze tighter around his best friend, pulling the boy closer to him. It wasn't often that the blonde would willingly pull someone closer into his own bubble of personal space and by doing so he hoped Harry would get the message; he would do anything to make it up to the smaller boy. The brunette strokes Draco's arm, currently wrapped around his chest, silently accepting his apology.

"Don't apologise." Harry whispers. "I'm just being silly." Draco nearly cries with glee at the fact he's finally hearing his best friend's voice. Instead he merely lets a bright grin take residence on his lips.

"What do you mean, Harry?" The blonde asks. The smaller boy sighs, clearly feeling ashamed.

"It's stupid, and _petty_. I'm just so silly Draco." The brunette twists around, now lying face-to-face with the blonde. "You're allowed to have friends. _I_ have friends. I can't stop you and I shouldn't want to." The smaller boy digs his face into Draco's shirt, effectively hiding his expression. Draco nearly laughs, feeling like he's been slapped in the face with the truth. Harry is _jealous_ … That's why he was glaring daggers at Hermione. Draco had never made friends with anyone else before, only ever Harry, and now it was killing the brunette. Draco knew _exactly_ what to say.

"No one could ever replace you, Har." Draco's fingers run through his friend's thick locks comfortingly. "You're my best friend. My one and only best friend. And you always will be. Nobody could ever take that place and you know it." Draco can't help the chuckle that follows. Harry was right, he _was_ being petty, but Draco couldn't help finding it humorous and more than a little bit adorable. "You have no need to be jealous, Harry. I like talking to Hermione, she's nice to spend time with while you're off playing football or basketball or some other 'ball'. But she's not you.

"You've always had a hundred and one friends, and you know what? I've never said anything because I've always known you would come home with me, your _best friend_. That it would be us watching movies on the couch later that night, us reading or drawing together, us playing Monopoly into the wee hours of the morning. And now I need you to realise that it's the exact same the other way around. Nobody will _ever_ be more important to me than you, Harry. You're irreplaceable." Harry slowly lifts his face from the blonde's shirt, emerald eyes shyly gazing into the taller boy's silver ones.

"Do you promise?" Harry whispers, his lips trembling slightly. Draco smiles.

"Of course I promise, silly." Draco chuckles, ruffling the smaller boy's dark hair. "You're Harry Potter, I'm Draco Malfoy… We were made to be friends." With that, Draco reaches down and takes Harry's hand in his own, squeezing it tightly. The smaller boy smiles sweetly, resting his head back on Draco's chest.

That's how Narcissa and Sirius found them an hour and a half later, after calling out that dinner was ready for ten minutes. The cousins stood in the doorway smiling softly at the two children, curled up into each other in Harry's bed, their young faces peaceful in their sleep.

"I'm glad that they're back to talking." Sirius whispers as he pulls away from the doorway, heading towards the dining room. Narcissa smiles as she follows him, lodging the image of her two sons in her mind.

"I'm glad too. But I never had any doubt that they wouldn't. They're going to have to face much bigger problems than a little bit of jealousy… It's probably good that they get a little bit of practice now." Sirius nods in agreement as he takes his place at the table, hungrily digging into his spaghetti.

Narcissa quickly becomes lost in her own thoughts, slowly twirling her spaghetti despite a lack of appetite. Two years; in just two years her boys would depart for Hogwarts, and Merlin only knew what sorts of issues they would have to face when their pasts caught up with them. As if the usual pains and torments that adolescence would bring them wouldn't be enough, Narcissa knew that the return to the wizarding world of The Boy Who Lived and The Boy Who Should Have Become a Death Eater would be dramatic enough to keep the magical society occupied for months, if not years. Thanks to monthly updates from Albus, Narcissa knew that the location of the Potter and Malfoy spawn remained the wizarding world's best kept secret. The Daily Prophet would likely explode upon discovering that the boys had been raised together; that the Saviour of the Wizarding World had been raised by a Death Eater's wife and a man they had once assumed was a mass murderer and a traitor. Narcissa sighs, dropping her spaghetti-loaded fork into her bowl. Yes, her boys had a lifetime of drama ahead of them. More than anything, the blonde woman hoped that when times got dark, they would be able to recall how light it felt in moments like this, curled up in the safety of each other's embrace.


End file.
